The Waterboys: The Whole of 1985
A six-disc document of the creation of This is the Sea, the pinnacle of Mike Scott's collaboration with Karl Wallinger.
Not long after I concluded my first listen through the whole of 1985, the six-disc box set chronicling the creation of the Waterboys' album This Is The Sea, I happened to hear its signature song "The Whole of the Moon" out in the wild for the first time since…well, for the first time that I could remember. It arrived in the thick of a mega '80s mix, one rife with double plays from Madonna and Daryl Hall & John Oates, the kinds of acts that defined the decade both then and now.
The Waterboys never quite troubled the American charts, particularly in their early years when leader Mike Scott pursued an all-encompassing vision that became classified as "The Big Music," a label named after a single from their second album, 1984's A Pagan Place. Despite this lack of a commercial presence, the Waterboys do feel quintessentially '80s, in a way that usually can't be conveyed in flashback weekends. It's not merely the studio techniques--the blend of electronics and acoustics that evoke a specific era, particularly when underpinned by the wallop of a gated drum; it's the ambition and scale, how Scott painted on large canvases, striving to bring his idiosyncratic vision to a grand audience.
Scott's ideals didn't belong to him alone. He had a clear corollary in U2, Irish compatriots who also envisioned a world that stretched far beyond the British Isles. The connection did not go unnoticed at the time. Placing the band in his "Distinctions Not Coss-Effective" category, Robert Christgau delivered the withering dismissal "How could they be U2 imitators? They're from Scotland." Scott would soon muddle these distinctions by relocating to Ireland after the release of This Is The Sea, refashioning the Waterboys as Irish folkies—more Van Morrison than the Pogues but it was hard to shake the notion that Shane MacGowan's band of marauders provided a key inspiration, particularly because Scott never hid his debts to contemporaries. Right out of the gate, the Waterboys delivered "I Will Not Follow," a clear riposte to U2's "I Will Follow" that helped delineate the differences between the two groups: Scott had a pugnacious earthiness that only accentuated the pomp in his poetry.
This tendency is in full flower throughout 1985, stamping all the demos, work tapes, and live performances crammed onto the five discs that supplement this exhaustive exploration behind the creation of This Is The Sea. The track titles alone can suggest how some of this work is far from complete: the first disc bears "Theme" and "Fuzz Guitar Vamp," plenty of tracks are distinguished by "Instrumental #2" or "Rough Mix," there's a minute of Scott harmonizing on Prince's "Paisley Park" with Karl Wallinger, the multi-instrumentalist whose partnership with the chief Waterboy was crucial in creating the cinematic thrust of This Is The Sea.
Wallinger left the Waterboys at the end of 1985 to go solo as World Party, a paisley-spackled pop project that immediately eclipsed Scott's outfit thanks to the Lennon-esque hit "Ship of Fools." Perhaps his absence is one of the reasons why Scott abandoned the sweeping vistas of This Is The Sea: in Wallinger, he had a partner who could execute his vision with drama and color while also providing a palpable propulsion with his piano. Scott still could seem as if he was prodding his idols into a dialogue or an argument--"Be My Enemy" barrels forth like speed addled-Dylan, "Medicine Bow" is draped in an ominous shimmer reminiscent of Echo & the Bunnymen, "Trumpets" mines the heightened melodrama of the E Street Band—but with Wallinger at his side, these influences are synthesized. Witness how "The Whole of the Moon" concludes with cascading vocal harmony and synth lines echoing Prince's "17 Days," the bright colors and muted funk, flair that gives the song's majestic romanticism a beating heart.
Getting to those dense arrangements was no easy process but the sessions that spill out over the five discs of extra material on 1985 never seem laborious or even boring. Throughout this five-and-a-half-hour box set, there's tangible excitement radiating from the Waterboys; it always seems as if the group is on the cusp of achieving Scott's vision. And, make no mistake, he's clearly the auteur of the album, the conceptualist and dramatist who nevertheless needs the support and sinew of collaborators to realize his vision. What's striking about 1985 as a listening experience is that while there's urgency and passion behind the music's creation, the set also suggests the group had the luxury to let ideas gestate. That unhurried pace is conveyed through the various drafts and takes of the album, each broadening and sharpening the compositions, building to the curious blend of cinema and concision on This Is The Sea.
Given its mammoth length—including a massive hardcover book in its initial limited edition—a deep love or knowledge of This Is The Sea may be a prerequisite for even attempting a listen of 1985. I don't particularly harbor such emotions yet I found 1985 an absorbing experience. Its very length makes it an effective document of the creative process: it has the time and space to detail the detours, dead ends and breakthroughs that lead to a completed work of art.